


Chasing the Dark Away

by Leela



Category: Adam Lambert (Musician)
Genre: Arguing, M/M, Makeup Sex, Wall Sex, handjobs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-31
Updated: 2012-12-31
Packaged: 2017-11-23 02:00:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,594
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/616817
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Leela/pseuds/Leela
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Moving to a new home forces Adam and Sauli to face the darkness that's grown between them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Chasing the Dark Away

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MaidenBedlam](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MaidenBedlam/gifts).



> **Betas** : @Choose2Live, @moodwriter
> 
>  **A/N** : Written for @MaidenBedlam's birthday as small thanks for the many favours she's done for me. She asked for Adam/Sauli, make-up sex after fighting. And, as always, my betae were wonderful and any mistakes you find are mine and not due to any lack of effort on their part.

"It's a lovely place," Sauli says to the closed sliding glass door off their bedroom.

His voice has that sullen tone again, and Adam has a sudden urge to hurt him, to kiss him, to do something, anything to change it. "You said you didn't mind moving."

"What am I supposed to say, Adam? It's your money."

"Oh fuck you!"

Sauli finally turns around. He puts his weight on one foot, crosses his arms over his chest, and glowers. "You don't agree?"

"What do you want me to do, baby? There's no point in pretending that we can share expenses on a house. We've talked about that."

"You talked. What else can I do but listen?"

Flexing his hands, Adam bows his head, pulls at a ring so hard that it slides off his finger and flies across the room to bounce on the hardwood floor near where Sauli is standing. Adam wants to scream, to cry, maybe both at the same time. He thought they'd had this fucking argument out, that it was over and done with before they moved. 

The silence between them grows heavy, weighted with all the words they threw at each other the last time and the time before that. 

"I'm going to get a drink." As he walks past Adam, Sauli pauses just far enough away that Adam can't touch him. "If I can't find anything in this damn place, I'll be going out. In _your_ car."

"Sauli." Adam feels helpless. This mess is so far beyond his ability to fix. He can't — _won't_ — walk away from his career or the money it brings. 

Sauli mutters under his breath in Finnish, too quickly and too quietly for Adam to even hope to understand him, then he raises his head and says, "A drink, Adam. That's all."

Sagging with relief, Adam nods. "I could use one too." 

He follows Sauli into the kitchen. There are more boxes in there, most of them empty and flattened. A bottle of vodka sits next to an open box. Sauli grabs a couple of mugs out of the closest cabinet, pours drinks for them both, and pulls himself up onto the counter. Adam waits for him to say something, even _Kippis_ , but Sauli just tosses back the entire contents of his mug and refills it.

His heart heavy, Adam leans against the opposite counter and does the same.

/\/\/

Adam wakes up the next morning on the couch with Sauli's head on his chest. His mouth tastes worse than ass ever did, and his head feels like every drummer he's ever had is auditioning at the same time. There are two empty bottles of vodka on the coffee table and no mugs. At the sight, Adam's stomach lurches and his bladder aches.

He shifts, and Sauli moans a protest. 

"Sorry, baby," Adam whispers, because the world is too damn painful to speak any louder, "but you really don't want me to stay here." He slides out as carefully as he can and stands there for a second, trying to remember where they put the bathroom in this place. 

He finds their bedroom, which leads him to the bathroom, which tempts him with hot water and a shower. The big blue suitcase on the floor in the corner yields loose yoga-style pants and a t-shirt that are so soft and worn, they're not even remotely uncomfortable against his skin.

By the time he gets back, he can smell coffee brewing and hear the shower running in their other bathroom, wherever the fuck that is. He rummages in his backpack, almost crying with joy when he finds the travel pack of ibuprofen, and makes his way into the kitchen. 

They spend the rest of the day unpacking whatever didn't get done when their friends were over helping. They walk carefully around each other, not talking any more than they absolutely have to.

In the late afternoon, Adam has a conference call with his management and then ends up making calls after that, setting things up with his band and crew. Afterwards, Sauli makes his own phone call, speaking in Finnish, leaving Adam feeling shut out and as if it's all about whatever he's done wrong this time. He finds himself wishing all over again that he had the time and the energy to learn Finnish, the way Sauli has learned English.

When Sauli hangs up and immediately starts to text someone, Adam huffs and heads for the kitchen. He bangs around in there, emptying the last of the boxes, and then considers pulling shit out of the cabinets and reorganizing them just to give him more to do. 

"Adam."

Putting the electric wok into the cabinet, Adam rises up and turns around. "Sauli."

"We should have dinner."

"Brilliant idea. What do you suggest? Because we've got nothing to eat." 

Sighing, Sauli pushes past him. "You don't know from nothing to eat."

"What the fuck do you know about what I know?" Adam feels like a child, but he can't help it. He's so fucking tired of Sauli's shit. "You want to move back into my roach-infested apartment and live off my parents' generosity? Would that give you a fucking clue about what I know about having nothing to eat?"

" _Idiootti_." Sauli opens the freezer and rummages around, emerging with a stack of Tupperware containers. "This isn't nothing." 

What it turns out to be is a large chunk of Adam's mom's lasagna, some kind of smoked fish thing that one of Sauli's Finnish friends gave him, and stir-fried vegetables. It's not quite the strangest meal Adam's ever eaten, even after Sauli cracks open a bottle of expensive white wine that they'd been given for a housewarming gift, but it's damn close.

They eat in the living room, Adam on the couch and Sauli in a chair. Adam distracts himself from thinking about their lack of conversation by checking Twitter on his iPad. Sauli has a book and his phone. 

Twitter turns out to be a mistake. Several pages of Adam's @ replies are taken up by a discussion about whether or not he and Sauli are having problems. He grits his teeth and scrolls past, but he can't quite ignore their comments. Curious about whether he can see what they're talking about, he clicks on some of the links to photographs. Then he wishes that he hadn't.

"We're fucked," he mutters. "Totally and utterly fucked."

"Hmmm?" Sauli looks over at him.

"Twitter," Adam says, because he can't put words to what he's been reading. Not aloud anyway. That would be giving it too much credence. 

"What part of your life is failing now?" Sauli sounds amused by the idea.

"Our life," Adam says, wanting to wipe the smile off Sauli's face. "Our fucking life is failing, and they're proving it in pictures. Happy now?"

"Why would I be happy?"

"You seemed happy enough when it was just my life."

"I'm not doing this." Sauli drops his paper plate and compostable cutlery on the coffee table and stands up. "It's been enough already."

"That's your answer? You're just going to get up and walk away. I guess that's my answer too."

"Sä oot tyhmä." 

"What the fuck is that supposed to mean?" 

"Stupid. You are stupid. You make stupid assumptions, decide stupid things for me."

Adam's up on his feet and over in front of Sauli before he can so much as think about what he's doing. When Sauli goes to move away, he has to clench his hands into fists to stop himself from reaching out and holding on to him. "Don't walk away from me," he says. "Not again. Not if you care about me, about us." 

Not moving, not turning around to look at Adam, Sauli freezes in place. His back is rigid, his head high. 

"Sauli?"

"It hurts," Sauli says. Each word sounding as if it's being dragged from deep in his soul. "All those comments about me living off you. All those pictures of you with other men, with Tommy. Fuck, even with Ashley, and I know you don't like women."

"And the pictures of you?" Adam can't believe Sauli is throwing this at him. "In the hot tub, at parties, with women hanging off you. How do you think I feel about them? I know you like women."

"They're my friends," Sauli hisses.

"So are Tommy and Ashley."

The words Adam doesn't say hang between them. There's no fucking way he's going to apologize for any of the pictures that are part of his job: the ones with fans, with minor celebrities, with whoever the fuck asks, at paid appearances and red carpet performances.

"I don't—"

They speak at exactly the same time. Adam stops and waits for Sauli to continue, but Sauli does the same thing. They're back to silence again, and Adam can't fucking stand it. He goes back to the couch, because that's easier than watching Sauli walk away.

/\/\/

Adam stays in the living room for hours. Twitter grows old quickly, as people start going out and stop responding to his DMs. He plays a couple of games and loses badly, every time. He pokes at the songs he's been working on, but he's in the wrong mood for every single one of them and too distracted to start something new. 

Tossing his iPad aside in disgust, he stalks over to the windows and presses his forehead against the cool glass. This close he can see beyond the reflection of their apartment to the city spread out far below. The lights are mesmerizing. Some are bright, others dim. Some move constantly, appearing and disappearing. Cars, Adam thinks, and flashing neon. There are worlds out there, and lives being lived that he can't even imagine. Although some days he wonders what it would be like to be someone else, to live a different life.

At a sound from behind him, he steps back and watches Sauli's reflection get closer. He looks sad, even this blurry. And gorgeous, half-naked, wearing only the bright colors of his tattoos and a pair of black sweatpants that were worn and full of holes when Sauli moved in with him.

"You're not stupid," Sauli says. "At least not about everything. I just—" he closes his eyes and when he reopens them Adam realizes that he's been crying. "I'm a person. Do you understand?"

"No." Adam reaches up, places his hand flat against the window. "I don't."

Sauli curses, in Finnish words that Adam has never asked to have translated. He doesn't want to know. If he doesn't, he can't get angry. 

"Our worlds, they are different."

"I've noticed." The noise Adam makes is somewhere between a laugh and a sob. He rubs his nose. "Kinda hard to miss."

"Damn it, Adam. You could try to be in the middle with me in this."

Unsure, almost frightened, Adam closes his eyes. If he does this, if he puts his fears out there, if he's rejected again... just thinking about that is almost too painful. But to not try is even worse. He might as well just give up on them and that's unthinkable.

"I don't care about the money," Adam says. "Not in the way you think. Or anyone else for that matter. I like what it buys, what it means about my career, but that's it."

"I care. Don't you see? It has to matter because I have so little and you so much."

"No, it fucking doesn't. God, you're almost worse than Tommy. Why does it have to be such a major deal to buy things for the people I love?" 

This silence is worse than all the others so far. Adam's last words echo between them. The pain of them chokes him. He didn't mean it the way it sounded. Tommy's a friend and nothing more, as Sauli knows from the endless fucking conversations they had at the beginning. But it was a fucking stupid thing to say. Everything is just so screwed up, and he doesn't know how to make it better. He just seems to make it worse.

He takes a step back, about to leave, to find some space where he doesn't feel like such a fuck up, when Sauli grabs his left arm. It's like an electric shock, radiating painfully from where Sauli's fingers dig into his skin.

"Don't walk away from me," Sauli says, both begging and accusing in the way that only he can be. "If you do—"

Whirling around to face Sauli, who clings to his arm, not letting it go, Adam shouts, "What the fuck do you want then? I can't spend my money or I can? I can't be a singer, except that I have to, because it's my fucking life, my soul. Tell me, Sauli. Just fucking tell me."

"You—" Sauli mutters in Finnish, shutting him out again.

Adam snaps, "In English, damn it."

Sauli blinks; his eyes are red-rimmed, but he's no longer crying. Adam thinks he should hug Sauli, or at least offer to do it, but it's as if his brain has lost all the words and his body no longer has the ability to move. So he stands there and waits, as Sauli's fingers dig in deeper, send more shocks of pain through his arm to his heart.

"Don't leave me," Sauli says, finally.

All Adam can do is gape at him. Sauli is worried about that? _Sauli?_

"I can't afford much, but I can... I _need_ to pay for some things, not just my own clothes and pleasures. Can you understand? And some day there'll be more. Another photo-shoot or another job. Maybe a goddamn job that lets me stay here for good." He releases a choking laugh. "There's nothing more I can do. I can't even shovel snow because someone would plaster it over the internet for immigration to see."

An image rises in Adam's mind, a memory of a picture Sauli once sent him, of Sauli on a snow-covered roof with a shovel in hand. The old fear rises with it, of Sauli falling off, of something happening to him before they could figure out what the fuck this thing is between them. This thing that they're still figuring out.

It's enough. It's too much. It fucking breaks him.

Shaking off Sauli's hands, freeing himself, Adam grabs for Sauli and pushes him back against the window. The glass protests, and Sauli makes a little cry — of surprise, Adam hopes, not pain. He shoves Sauli against it again, needing him to feel what Adam is feeling, to understand what they're doing to each other, that it's not just Sauli who is hurting, who is being hurt.

"I don't fucking give a shit about the money. Spend it. Spend every single goddamn penny of it. I don't care."

"But I do." 

The tears come at that, burning their way down Adam's cheeks. "I know, and there's fuck all I can do about it."

Sauli reaches up and wipes away Adam's tears. His touch is as gentle as Adam's wasn't, and it's too much. Adam digs a hand into the curls on the top of Sauli's head, grips tight, and pulls. Sauli just moves with it, so Adam bites at Sauli's lips, sucks hard enough to leave a mark, because he wants Sauli to fucking feel him.

"Don't leave me," Adam says. 

"Hei, Adam... No, okay? No."

"Stay?" Adam presses Sauli against the glass, grinds against him. "Please?"

"Yes. God, yes." Tilting his head, Sauli bares his neck and welcomes Adam's claim. "Stay with me?" 

"As long as you'll let me." Adam's skin is burning again, and he blinks his damp eyelashes and smiles. "Always," he promises, even though he knows it's not one either of them can really keep, but he fucking wants to. 

Pulling on Sauli's hair, moving his head into place, Adam kisses him then, licks into his mouth, and Sauli opens up to him. The ache inside Adam turns, flips, becomes a need to have, to own Sauli, to make Sauli feel him. The glass bangs and creaks as they scratch and press almost painfully on each other's skin, pull at each other's hair and clothing. 

Sauli's sweatpants fall easily to tangle at his feet. Adam's t-shirt gets caught around his armpits, his pants somewhere around his thighs.

"God, fuck. Baby, please," Adam breathes as Sauli raises his legs, curls them around Adam's hips. Adam has to slide both hands beneath Sauli's ass, push him harder against the window, to hold him up in this awkward position that brings their dicks together. They kiss, suck, nip, bite. It's a series of glorious small pains in Adam's mouth that soothes the ache in his heart. 

"Rakas," Sauli whispers, dragging his lips away from Adam's mouth to suck at the corner of his jaw. "Ihana." And he gets a hand between them and around their dicks. 

The pull and the tug, the almost painful drag and rub of their dicks together, steals Adam's breath, and he's panting against Sauli's skin. He rotates his hips, thrusts up and into Sauli's hand. Faster and faster, as Sauli murmurs constantly in Finnish. Words Adam knows, and words he doesn't recognize, but they all speak to him of love. 

When Sauli comes, crying against Adam's skin, the slide becomes damper, less painful. Everything Adam's been feeling, the love and the hurt and the absolute fucking joy of being with Sauli, gather inside him and rush over him as he pulses his release over both of them.

Legs buckling beneath him, Adam does his best to slow their drop to the floor and to shield Sauli from the hard landing. His pants fall down further, leaving Adam bare-assed on the hardwood. He takes a second to pull his shirt off over his head before it strangles him, then he curls around Sauli and leans sideways against the window. Sauli licks his lips and smiles at him, and Adam smiles back.

After a few minutes, Sauli shifts and a shiver goes through him. "Cold," he says, "and sticky."

Adam tightens his arms around Sauli, tries to share his own warmth, but it doesn't work. Sauli's next shiver is even stronger, and there are goosebumps rising all over his skin. "We should—"

"Don't want to move. Not yet."

"You're shivering." 

"I know," Sauli says, and snuggles even closer into Adam, "but you're warm." 

Not knowing what else to do, Adam turns them slightly, so his back is against the window, protecting Sauli from the chill air coming from it. It's cold against Adam's skin, but he doesn't care.

Sauli kisses the curve of Adam's shoulder, the side of his neck, the corner of his mouth. He touches Adam's lips with a finger and presses them closed. "I need to talk, and you need to listen."

Nodding, Adam runs a hand down Sauli's arm, threading their fingers together and holding on. 

"What I make, it's not a lot. Not for LA or this life we live. But it's more than nothing, and you need to let me pay for something."

Wanting to say something, Adam tries to talk, but Sauli shushes him. 

"Listen, muru, please."

This time Adam kisses Sauli's temple, rests his head against Sauli's, and waits. 

"We don't have to decide now. In fact, we shouldn't decide now," Sauli says. "But I need to put money into our home. Every week, not just when I see something we might like." He squeezes Adam's hand, pressing the edges of their rings into Adam's fingers. "I need to feel as if I am part of creating our home, part of making something for both of us, not just accepting what you give to me."

Sauli moves his fingers away from Adam's lips, freeing him to speak. "I don't mind—" he says, and then stops when he realizes that his not caring about paying for everything is part of the problem. 

"I do. So much, you cannot imagine."

Adam closes his eyes, thinking. For someone as independent, as determined to do things his way, how had he missed this? How had he not known? "What..." he clears his throat of the obstruction that suddenly appeared. "I'm so sorry, baby. I didn't mean to hurt you." 

"I know," Sauli says, brushing his fingers over Adam's lips. "That's why I'm still here." After a moment of silence, Sauli adds, "Tomorrow, perhaps, or later, when we're warm and clean, perhaps we can look over the household bills?"

"Yes, of course. The ones that I pay, and the ones that are paid for me." Because that's another part of the problem. Adam doesn't pay all the bills himself. Some are routed to his management and paid for him. He smiles against Sauli's hair. "And you better still cook," he says, "because neither of us want to starve."

"Oh, you," Sauli says. "What am I to do with you?"

"Love me?"

"All of you, always, I love you." 

"Love you, too, baby. Always." And because he feels like he needs to, because he wants to meet Sauli somewhere in his life even if it's not quite the middle, Adam cradles Sauli's face with his free hand and says, "Rajattoman kaunis."

Sauli kisses him then, and Adam opens up for him, holding on to Sauli's hand and his face, trying to put everything he feels, everything he doesn't always say into the touch of their lips. He settles back against the glass. They occasionally kiss, slow and lazy, and in between they talk.


End file.
